


Beloved Gaze In Thine Own Heart

by destielonfire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Grieving Dean, Grieving Sam, Heavy Angst, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielonfire/pseuds/destielonfire
Summary: Dean lies there, surrounded by the budding chrysanthemums and watching the wind gently blow through the grass. Chrysanthemums always were Castiel's favorite.(Wherein Dean and Sam each take turns visiting Castiel's final resting place.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jennilah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennilah/gifts).



> Inspired by [this heartbreaking beautiful fan art by jennilah](http://jennilah.tumblr.com/post/141825627821/happy-springtime-cas)  
>  Soundtrack: [Loreena McKennitt – The Two Trees](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vr6S2XOfkQg&feature=youtu.be&t=1m46s) (based on the Yeats poem)
> 
> Thank you to the lovely [Jhoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom) for beta reading! Be sure to check out her wonderful destiel fics.

Learning from last year’s mistake, Dean had brought actual gardening tools with him this time. He should be able to get a fair amount of work done today as long as the fair weather held. It was one of those typical early springtime days, when the wind still held the chill of winter, but the sun was warm enough keep the cold at bay.

The clearing was deserted, thankfully. Not that many people came there in the first place. It wasn’t easily accessible from the road and pretty far away from the nearest town.

Perfect place for an ambush.

Dean shook his head, dispelling the memories of that day four years ago. Any other day, he’d let the memory overtake him, let himself wallow in his grief, dwell on his abject failure, choke on his self-loathing. But not today.

Today he would be strong.

He was even sober. Tomorrow he would certainly drink too much – he’d never really managed to break out of that particular destructive habit. Sam would find him in the kitchen of the bunker, staring at the walls with at least one empty bottle of Jack next to him.

He’d sigh, haul Dean to the bathroom and beg him to take better care of himself as Dean purged the poison from his body. Dean would promise to Sam that he would, and he’d manage to not drink to excess for a whole year. Until April six rolled by again and the same cycle repeated itself.

One year, he’d manage to get through this anniversary without drinking himself into a stupor, but this year would not be that year.

Slowly, Dean picked up the grass shears he’d bought for this occasion. He surveyed the wing-shaped indentation in the long grass, deliberating on the best place to start. Shrugging, he picked a spot and carefully started trimming the grass blades around the delicate little pink-purple flowers that had sprung up around the second year.

Dean had been so surprised to see them - it had driven him to his knees and, later, when the tears had stopped long enough for him to collect himself, back to the Impala.

They’d been one of Cas’s favorite flowers.

He didn’t know why – he’d never asked, because what dude would ask after another dude’s favorite flowers (even though he was dating said other dude)? All he knew was that the few times they’d visited the Sunday market a few towns over, Cas would inevitably make a detour to the sweet old lady with her flower stand, and look at Dean with those big, blue eyes of his until Dean gave in and bought him a little bouquet.

He’d watch Cas happily hum to himself as he picked out the flowers he wanted. Dean distinctly remembered that once Cas had picked out a bouquet with only chrysanthemums of every different color he could find. Dean had been curious enough to ask the old lady – _“her name is Bess, Dean”_ – what kind of flowers they were, and she’d answered him with a twinkle in her eye.

Last year Dean had been ready for them – for the sight of them. But to his dismay, the grass had grown so long and wild that the flowers had a hard time peeking through them. Dean had been so angry he’d started ripping the grass out with his bare hands, not stopping until his fingers started cramping and one of his fingernails bled from an accidental cut. Seeing the blood drip on the ground, the way it defiled Cas’s final resting place, had made him even angrier, and he’d choked out an apology for being such a damned disappointment before he left.

But this year, he was ready for that scenario as well. For once, he hadn’t fucked it up ( _ yet _ ). The thought brought some peace to his mind as he worked diligently. He knew it was stupid, in a way. Grass grew much, much faster than what a yearly trimming could keep up with. But he wanted to do this, to do something for Cas. Take care of him in some way. Giving those beautiful flowers the space they needed was the only thing he could think of, so that’s what he would do.

When he was done, he lied down on his side in the space between the two wings. He reached out to touch one of the chrysanthemum’s gently swaying in the breeze, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“There, all done. Not too shabby for a hunter, huh?”

A sudden cold gust of wind made him shiver. If only he’d have remembered to bring Cas’s trenchcoat.

He’d contemplated burying it right here where Cas was slain. Or burning it together with his remains. But in the end he couldn’t bear to part with it. He kept it folded on the bedside table of the empty, right-hand side of the bed. The daily reminder helped as much as hindered, but then Dean had always been a bit of a masochist at heart.

“Every year Sam looks at me with those damn puppy eyes and asks if I want him to come along,” Dean continued out loud. It felt like a confessional. “Maybe next year I’ll let him. This is backbreaking work, you know. I’m not as young as I used to be.” He chuckled.

“You know, there are days when I don’t think of you. And the next day, when I do think of you and I realize I missed a day, I get so fucking mad at myself.” The smile on his lips faded, twisting into something more bitter.

“As if I could ever forget you, as if that was ever even a remote possibility.” Dean snorted derisively.

“Look at me, talking to myself like I’m insane…But when have I ever been sane, right? When has my crappy life ever  _ not _ been a complete and total parade of insanity? Hell, loving you was the probably the most insane thing I’ve ever done!”

He closed his eyes, and memories of Cas threatened to overwhelm him. Cas smiling at him, teasing him, closing his eyes in ecstasy, pressing his devotion like a brand into Dean’s skin with his lips, running his hands through Dean’s hair, shouting at him to  _ “stay back Dean, I’ll hold them off” _ , staring with unseeing eyes not at Dean, but at the sky  –

A small pink chrysanthemum kept Dean company on his journey back to the bunker.

_ I’ll do better next year, Cas. I promise. _

* * *

On a warm, cloudy October day, Sam sat down on the very same patch of grass Dean had been occupying six months before. He wiped the sweat from his brow before placing the bunker’s second pair of grass shears next to him on the ground. He evaluated his work and nodded in satisfaction.

“There, Cas, that should tide you over for another few months.”

Sam suspected Dean had done some gardening of his own when he’d come here half a year ago, because the grass hadn’t been nearly as high as it had been last year. Good for him. Sam had personally found taking care of Cas’s final resting place therapeutic, and he hoped it would help Dean, too.

God knew Dean could use some help. Or maybe God didn’t, since he didn’t seem to be around anymore. If he was, why would he have let this happen? 

Sure, Cas had died before - they all had, several times - but he’d  _ always  _ come back.

Until he hadn’t.

In an effort to stop himself from spiralling into dark thoughts, Sam focused on the chrysanthemums. He could swear they were slightly larger than last year and brighter in color, as if the ground had gotten more fertile. Or they’d been taken care of by a gentle, loving hand.

“Look at them,” Sam said, gesturing around him, “there’s even more of ‘em this year. I  _ would  _ say you’re laying it on a bit thick, but this is  _ Dean  _ we’re talking about.” 

He smiled fondly. “He probably hasn’t even realized what they mean yet.” His voice took on a teasing note. “What do you think, Cas, should I tell him?”

Sam paused, waiting for an answer that would never come, though he could feel the wind pick up slightly, playing with his hair and even blowing a lock in his mouth.

“Alright, I get the message!” Sam laughed, tucking the errant strands of hair back behind his ear. “I’ll let him figure it out on his own, no matter how long it takes.”

_ Or how long Dean would need to let you go. _

The thought made him morose again and he sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of nature. “Truth be told, I’m worried about him, Cas. It’s been four years, and sometimes it seems like it was only yesterday that we lost you. Other times he’s back to the old Dean, you know, when you were still…”

He picked one of the flowers near him, twirling it around. “I miss you Cas - not a day goes by when I don’t. You were my best friend...Dean and I, we keep losing pieces of ourselves - Mom, Dad, Jo, Ellen, Bobby, Charlie, you...” 

The flower crumbled in his fist. “I’m scared we won’t have any pieces left soon.” Its remains scattered to the ground. 

“If I didn’t have Eileen, I’d be in much worse shape. Dean has nobody except us, and sometimes I feel like it isn’t enough. And sometimes I kinda hate you for that, Cas. For doing that to him.”

Sam stood up, brushing the grass and dirt from his jeans. He felt guilty for even saying something like that, but he knew Cas would forgive him, that he would understand. That was just the kind of man he was.

“I know we want the same thing: for Dean to be happy. And I promise you that I will do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

_ Bye, Cas. I’ll let you know in a year how I’ve gotten on. _

**Author's Note:**

> [About chrysanthemums:](http://www.flowermeaning.com/chrysanthemum-flower-meaning/)  
>  _Support your friends with loyalty and love, especially when they’re facing an obstacle or recovering from a life-changing event. Remember to honor the cycle of life, both at its end and with new beginnings._
> 
> Thank you for reading. If you liked it, I would really appreciate it if you left a comment and/or kudo.
> 
> Feel free to come yell at me on tumblr at [destielonfire](http://destielonfire.tumblr.com).


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